like fields of amaranth lie
by Rapis-Razuri
Summary: Saying goodbye was never going to be easy. She just didn't expect it to happen this soon. [Post-Azure Moon. F!Byleth/Dimitri]


Inspired by a discussion between hollyfig and lunatoterms on twitter. The angst potential was too great. I could not resist.

tw: blood. and mentions of a married couple sharing a bed.

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Byleth was no stranger to nightmares. Her recurring dream of Saint Seiros's clash with Nemesis on those fated plains has since changed into another. One where she lay helpless and immobile in some dark expanse as her chest was cut open and her heart and bones harvested by some looming figure she could not see. But mostly, her nightmares were of times gone by, before she altered the course of history by turning back time.

Sothis's divine power was a resource Byleth tried not to be too reliant on. It was too unreliable. It made it easy to get sloppy. But sometimes she had no _choice_, when the outcome otherwise was something she simply could not accept. It was how she turned the horror of Grondor Field into a bitter victory for the Kingdom. How she brought the impregnable Fort Merceus to its knees. How she saved the lives of those under her command more times than she could count.

But she was no goddess, no matter what Rhea had so dearly wished. Inheritor of the progenitor goddess's power she may be, but Byleth was imperfect and fallible like everyone else. She made mistakes.

Mistakes like taking the possibility of a miracle for granted.

He had just been smiling in thanks for it was not the first time she had stopped an enemy attempting to strike his blind side and it would not be the last, but showing his gratitude and appreciation nonetheless. It was simply something they did when they fought side by side like this. A word of thanks, a small smile, a nod of understanding. Little moments that reminded her what it was she was fighting for.

She'd managed to smile back before they had to dodge sideways to avoid the incoming Meteor spell. Neither of them noticed the approach of the mounted soldier from the smoke and ashes in the aftermath of the spell. Dimitri had been patting out a fire on his mantle when he was impaled from behind, the wicked red-stained blade of a lance forged to pierce through armor protruding through through his stomach.

It seemed that the shock of it had split her in two: one, a detached, impartial mercenary who knew a lethal wound and a casualty when she saw one and the other, simply processing what had happened and wondering why… _why was time still marching onwards?_

The soldier wrenched his lance free, a triumphant smirk on his lips. He must have lost someone precious to the Savior King. Friend, family, lover… Byleth was no fool. There were many, many people who, as Dimitri said himself, had every right to despise her dearly beloved husband and wish him dead.

He was far more forgiving of a person than she was. Byleth didn't even need to stop to think. She lifted the Sword of the Creator and let the blade fly.

The satisfaction of revenge was ever a fleeting, fickle thing. The sickening crunch that came when the rider was thrown off his mount brought her no joy, but there was no time for her to dwell on the emptiness of it. Not when she had far more important things to worry about.

"Dimitri!"

He swayed on his feet. For a moment, time seemed to slow, but when it refused to stop, she knew it was her own hope that was playing tricks on her. Byleth was by his side in an instant, her hand raised and ready to cast even as past experience have told her that his wound was too much for magic to heal.

"Beloved?" he whispered.

"I'm here," she replied, the wail in her heart manifesting as a sob. "I'm right here."

Areadbhar and the Sword of the Creator fell from their hands as he collapsed into her arms. Byleth pressed her cheek against the crown of his head as she held him, clinging to him as the shadows trying to tear him away became as visceral as the growing frost in her chest.

_Sothis._ She thought. Praying, hoping that her goddess_/_mother_/_sister would hear her and answer her pleas. _Please help me. Please help him. Why have you abandoned me now of all times? Why..._

"Why are you crying, my beloved?" Dimitri rasped, smiling as he reached up to touch her cheek. "Being here, like this… It's not a bad way to die. Better than I deserve."

She shook her head._ Nonono_. This was not what he deserved. He deserved to see his dream realized, a Faerghus where everyone could live in peace. He deserved to watch his son grow up. He deserved to grow old and die peacefully in his sleep. He deserved to _live_, not to die in battle when he has not yet reached his thirtieth year.

She'd known that she would outlive him by centuries, yes. She'd known that the moment Rhea revealed the truth of what had been done to her when she was a baby. But this was so _soon_, so _sudden_. Was five years really all they could have? Five years before the combined weight of their sins finally came crashing down?

"Beloved, they're… I can't hear them anymore. Finally..."

She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear seeing the light beginning to dull in his. Please… _Please_, let it work this time. Please let her feel that divine pulse so she could back time and make this right. What was the point of having power if it could not be used to protect what mattered? His breaths were growing weaker and oh goddess she was not ready to say goodbye. There was so much of it. There was so much blood…

Blood.

Slowly, Byleth opened her eyes. In the midst of her growing despair, she remembered. A story of a fatally wounded knight and how a child of the goddess stole him back from death's embrace.

There was no hesitation as she yanked off a gauntlet and pulled back her sleeve. She barely felt her dagger's blade cutting into her flesh. Nothing could possibly hurt more than losing him forever. She did not care how much it would take, but her hope grew with every trickle that flowed from her wrist.

Magic won't save him now and her pulses have run dry. This… This may be the only thing that could work.

Precious drops fell from the corners of her mouth and onto his white armor, a crimson flower blooming on winter snow. She pressed her lips against his and how fitting it was that this kiss of life tasted of iron and salt.

_Stay with me, my love. Just… stay with me. _

The rebellion was quelled soon after.

It was reported that the king had been wounded in battle, but he was expected to make a full recovery in no time.

Byleth could not take any satisfaction from it. He had listened in a stony silence when she told him what she had done, but when the dissociation had passed, when he came to realize the price she had forced upon him in exchange for his life to be saved…

The cold shoulder was in some ways many times worse than the open fury as he may have once displayed. Not a single word of cruelty passed his lips, but there was no denying his anger at what she had done every time she looked at him. When a prick of his finger and a drop of his blood on an analyzer revealed the presence of a second Crest in his veins, he had openly broken out into harsh, mirthless laughter and said to someone who was not there, "I simply keep stealing things from you don't I? Your life. Your empire. Even your Crest."

Less than a week after the battle, she left Fhirdiad. She did not regret saving him, but she could not deny that she had done so without his assent and without fully realizing what sort of life she would be condemning him to. To him, death was not something to be feared. To him, it was a release from the cries of the dead that haunted him from the shadows and in her selfishness, she had denied him his promised rest.

She accepted his anger. He was free to hate her, she'd decided bleakly. No matter how much it hurt because at least he was alive to do so. Her wounded heart was simply unable to withstand the coldness in his eye when he looked at her, unable to endure sharing a bed with a man who acted as though she was not there both day and night. The first time she heard of the not-incorrect rumor that how the seemingly perfect marriage between the king and archbishop was beginning to fall apart was the last straw.

Leaving their son was easily the most difficult part of that decision, but his place was in the capital with his father, not with her so she distracted herself from the heartbreak by returning to Garreg Mach and throwing herself into her duties to the Church there. Byleth had made a number of visits to Garreg Mach since her marriage, both with and without her husband, so this return had not been questioned or marked as strange. Seteth has been doing a wonderful job, overseeing the Central Church's day to day affairs in her stead, but the archbishop simply being present at the heart of the Church of Seiros was a boon to morale.

If only the same could be said for her own.

The morning of her first day back, Byleth impulsively took off her wedding ring before leaving her quarters. The weight of the band was barely noticeable, but her left hand felt strangely exposed in its absence. When a bishop from the Western Church noticed the ring was gone and asked what happened to it, she lied and said she lost it while unpacking.

In the middle of her third night back, she woke up in a cold sweat. Taking deep breaths, she reminded herself that she was safe, that the Sword of the Creator had been forged over a thousand years ago.

The other side of her bed has never felt emptier.

The morning after, she took the ring from its hiding place and put it back on. The same bishop from before took note. "It's such a beautiful ring," she'd said with a dreamy smile. "His Majesty can't have intended it for anyone but you."

After dinner on the fifth day, she went to Seteth and Flayn and told them everything. Flayn was all sympathy and tears, but it was Seteth who shared with her the wisdom of someone who had been married before and married longer. "You can't avoid him forever, Byleth," he'd said, addressing her as an equal, a friend, rather than as the archbishop and his superior. "In the end, talking is really the only way to fix this."

She confessed that she feared it couldn't be.

"Chin up, Professor," Flayn had said cheerfully in response, using her old title, a nickname so bittersweet and familiar. "For better or for worse, Dimitri never gives up on the people he loves and he loves you with all his heart and soul. You should know that better than anyone." But her smile turned sad when she added, "And little Nic... Please don't let him grow up without his mother."

Finally, on the ninth day of her return to Garreg Mach, a nervous-looking squire interrupted her meeting with Seteth and Alois, heralding the arrival of a guest she had not been expecting.

"His Majesty has arrived and requests an audience with Lady Byleth at the earliest possibility." An awkward pause. "He apologizes for not sending word beforehand."

Byleth had been in the middle of working out solutions to the various problems that have been brought to her attention lately, but the moment the squire delivered his message she promptly lost all other train of thought.

_Dimitri was here. _She suddenly felt very lightheaded. She had taken Seteth's advice to heart and spent the past few days wrapping up the matters that needed her immediate personal attention and sorting through everything meant to be passed onto Seteth's capable hands before she returned to Fhirdiad - to make the life of the Church's long-time and long-suffering second-in-command easier if nothing else - but it seems that Dimitri had, once again, beaten her to the punch.

She had not been expecting him to come. The situation in Faerghus was far too precarious after the rebellion for him to leave Fhirdiad so soon, but now that he was here, she would not be able to focus on anything until she's seen him.

Still.. She was in the middle of something right this moment. She glanced at Seteth. To anyone else, her expression would have been stoic and unreadable, but the older man knew better and nodded once, subtle and understanding.

She nodded back, grateful. "Very well," she said with all the authority of her position to mask the anticipation that was beginning to build. "Seteth, if you could draw up that financial plan as soon as possible, I would be grateful. Money is tight, but I'm sure we can find the funds somewhere. Alois, we'll reconvene after dinner. In the meantime, prepare the knights for mobilization. I won't have Duke Aegir's loyalty repaid with silence." To the squire she said, "I can speak to Dimitri now. Where is he?"

More nervous fidgeting. "Erm… His Majesty says he'll be waiting for you at… at 'that place'." His cheeks turned red as he ducked into a bow. "I-I dunno what that means, but he said you would, Your Grace."

Her right hand turned the ring on her left once. _The Goddess Tower._

"Yes," she stood up, Seteth following her lead. "I do know where that is." She gave the squire leave to straighten and gave the young man an encouraging smile in the hopes of calming his nerves before he could jump out a window. "Thank you for bringing me this message. You are dismissed."

Not wasting another moment, Byleth hurried out of her office with only one thing on her mind. She paid no attention to the curious looks she received from knights, devouts and merchants alike. They were already gossiping, no doubt. The King of Faerghus showing up unannounced at the monastery doorstep was not the kind of news that went unrepeated.

Dedue and Ingrid stood guard at the entrance of the tower. They smiled when they saw her and moved aside without a word. An encouragement, Byleth thought as she smiled back. She practically flew up the stairs as she tore off her headdress and left it to fall.

Compared to her in all her archbishop regalia, he was dressed modestly, even plainly, for his station in clothes meant to quickly traverse the long road between Fhirdiad and Garreg Mach. With a standard-issue steel lance strapped to his back, he could have been mistaken for a knight. A landed one perhaps, but a knight all the same. Considering the fact that he seemed to have brought only Dedue and Ingrid with him, that may have been the point.

Slowly he turned away from the window, every muscle in his body screaming of anticipation. She saw longing and his pain in his clear blue eye. Longing and pain that mirrored hers.

Seteth was right. They had to talk. Byleth look a deep breath.

"Dimitri-"

"Byleth-"

She closed her mouth. They were usually comfortable in silence, so the blank one here left her a little disconcerted. His eye darted sideways. "You first."

"It's fine," she replied quickly.

"I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You didn't."

"I meant your meeting."

"Oh."

"I just needed to see you."

"So did I."

"Pardon?"

"See you. I needed to see you too."

"Oh."

And she couldn't help it anymore. So much tension had built up within her in the brief minutes since she found out he was here, she could not help but let some of it go with a peal of laughter at the absurdity of it all. Married with a child and faced countless hardships over the years together besides, yet stumbling over words like clumsy teenagers.

"I missed that," Dimitri said softly. There was no bewilderment in his voice, only affection. "Your smile. Your laughter. Fhirdiad isn't the same without it."

_I missed you too_, she'd meant to say, but instead she blurted out the apology he was owed. "I'm sorry, Dimitri. I should never have done that to you." Vulnerability did not come easily to her, even after all this time, but she could not hold back her remorse. "I can tell myself over and over that I was saving you, but I just couldn't lose you again. I'm… I am so sorry. More than I can say."

His hands were incredibly gentle - so, _so_ gentle - as he placed them on her cheeks, a tenderness rivaled only in the way he kissed her tears away. "I know," he said. "And I apologize as well. I, more than anyone, should have known better than to let my anger get the better of me." Dimitri brushed a strand of hair behind her ear before he continued. "I still wish you hadn't done it, but I understand. If it had been you dying in my arms that day and I had the power to save you, I would have done so, just as you. It's been done and it cannot be taken back, so… I forgive you, my beloved."

Byleth felt like she was melting right there. How she missed his term of endearment for her. "Thank you," she whispered. _I love you._

He pressed their foreheads together. "The goddess knows you've forgiven me for far more," he said, closing his eyes, "If there is anyone in this world I can learn to bear the curse of eternity for, it is you, Byleth Eisner Blaiddyd."

Was simply holding out her hand really that profound? She had not been the only one who stood by his side back then…

Once again, there was a painful realization of what her selfishness had cost him. He may not outlive his son, but he would have to watch his friends grow old while he stayed eternally young and watch their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren inherit their lands and their titles, their Crests and Relics, one after another. Would he see their ghosts too?

As though he knew what she was thinking, Dimitri pulled her into his arms. She closed her eyes, taking in his scent and thinking of the many times she had laid her head upon his chest and fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

"I could not help but fear that you may have left me after how I treated you," he confessed, nuzzling against her hair. "Will you return to Fhirdiad with me? Nicolas misses you too. He asked me to tell you he promises to eat all his vegetables if you do."

Byleth let out a small laugh at the picture. "Every day?"

"I… I'm afraid I was was not clear on the details."

Giggling softly, Byleth pulled back, but kept her fingers entwined in his. "I will," she answered, "Of course I will, but I… still have some work to finish here. We're hoping we'll be able to reopen the Officer's Academy again next year."

"The Officer's Academy," he repeated with a soft, wistful smile. "I always wondered what it would be like to teach the generation that comes after."

"Someday…" _Years into the future._ "Maybe you will."

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I honestly did not spend a lot of time thinking about the mechanics of "how." I'm literally… Just Here For The Angst (With A Happy Ending).

Byleth's lifespan: Let's Just Say she's _effectively_ a Nabatean thanks to Sothis's heart. It's kind of a necessary evil to make this fic work.

The Crest of Flames: This was something I went back and forth on before deciding to include it. Jeralt (and not to mention the Cardinals in Silver Snow's endgame) has a Major Crest of Seiros due to him receiving Rhea's blood, so I think it's possible that, if Byleth were to give her blood to someone, they may manifest a Crest of Flames. _Problem is _Dimitri already has his Minor Crest of Blaiddyd so it's just a question of how those two factors would interact since Edelgard only got hers via Agarthian experimentation. Because, y'know… Dimitri obviously needs more angst fodder in his life.

Dimitri's canon death by illness: idk guys. Maybe the Crest of Flames (see above) gave him a better immune system? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Or the illness is just a public story. He's a very high-profile figure after all. Straight up vanishing with no explanation - even after stepping down - is gonna make people wonder/speculate what happened to him. So making his death "official" is a precautionary measure to protect his (and Byleth and their son's) secret/identity later down the road, kinda like how Seteth and Flayn claim to be siblings to hide theirs.

Dimileth son: He's about three or four years old. His full name is Nicolas Célestin Blaiddyd. French variants as I noticed a lot of Kingdom characters have French names and I chose them for their meanings. "Nicolas" means "victory of the people'', referencing Dimitri's line to Edelgard "The ones who can truly change the way of the world are not the rulers, but the people" while "Célestin" means "heavenly" or "divine" (for obvious reasons). As for how Byleth knows he has an expanded lifespan… well, human/Nabatean relationships may have happened in the past so she found out from Rhea/Seteth/Flayn.

Amaranth: A flower symbolizing immortality. Depending on the specific species it can also mean either "hopeless love" or "undying love" as well, but the "immortality" meaning is pretty constant across the genus. The word itself more-or-less means "unfading flower" in Greek and one of the common names for _Amaranthus caudatus_, love-lies-bleeding, inspired the first part. Half the title of this fic comes from the poem _All That's Past_ by Walter de la Mare.


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